


now and for always

by starlightwalking



Series: the wondrous parts of you and I [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Darkening of Valinor, First Time, Foreshadowing, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar Compliant, M/M, Religious Themes, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, Spontaneous Marriage, Tirion, Trans Fingon, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Valinor, discussion of canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Amidst the chaos of the Darkening, Findekáno searches desperately for Russandol - and when he finds him, they finally stop putting off what they’ve wanted for so long.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: the wondrous parts of you and I [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979144
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41
Collections: Anna's Trans Anthology





	now and for always

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here is the next installment of this series as a reward for guessing the title connections :D
> 
> Look I've written these two getting spontaneously married like, 4 times now, and you know what? I'll DO IT AGAIN.  
> (the other fic I've written that matches this one in tone the most is "[take my whole life too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739802)," which features trans Mae!)
> 
> surprisingly less explicit than the previous fic? when doing the soul bond stuff it's easier to focus on the emotions more than the sex tbh. but there is still sex, lol.
> 
> I wasn't sure if I was going to write their wedding night for this verse, but then I referenced this moment in "[a flame that never dies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056906)" and I knew I had to. I'm glad I did; this gave me the opportunity to explore the chaos of the Darkening and my headcanons around why the Noldor left Valinor, and I'm always a sucker for this trope with my boys!
> 
> title from the song of the same name appearing in the Lord of the Rings musical <3 that song is like, super gay SamFro stuff, so using it for a super gay Russingon fic just feels right!

Russo. He had to find his Russo. He didn’t know where to even start looking amid the chaos and the darkness; Tirion’s streets were full of wailing eldar tripping over one another in their confusion and concern, but Findekáno knew Russandol would be somewhere near. He _had_ to be.

The world was so _dark_ , darker than Findekáno had ever thought it could be. It was not simply that the Trees had died and taken their light with it, but a suffocating shadow, a terrible Unlight, now blanketed all of Valinórë. What was one elda to do in the face of such oppressive darkness?

Findekáno could only think of one thing. He found a candle and lit it, holding its tiny flame before him as he made his way through the dark, searching for the light of the one he held dearest to his heart.

It was easier than he thought to find more light, but this was a torch of a different kind. Fëanáro lit his own flame, a harsh and angry one, and though Findekáno drew nearer to it now he did so with wariness in his heart.

Fëanáro had run weeping from the Ring of Doom, and returned with a torch in his hand, a storm of fire in his words, and a strange light in his eyes that gleamed all the brighter in this stifling darkness. And they, his people, the Ñoldor: they had followed him back to Tirion, and now—

Findekáno had followed because they all had, even his father. And now he sought Fëanáro’s flame again, but not for his uncle’s sake. Russandol would be with his father, he thought. If he was not...but no. He wouldn’t consider that, not now.

He could hear Fëanáro’s voice from several blocks away, crying out, rallying the Ñoldor together into some dreadful action, he knew not what. Findekáno felt his words stir something within him despite himself: a rage long repressed, a fire bursting into life now that it had fuel. And yet, something in him recoiled from it all the same, the part of him that wanted peace and quiet and light and—and _Russo_ —

“Russandol,” he wept aloud, though he could barely hear himself amid the cacophony. “Russo, I need you, where are you?”

If only they were wedded as had been planned, twelve years ago before it all went wrong. If only he could reach out to Russo in his mind. If only Fëanáro had not—no, if only _Melkor_ had not—

But Russandol was loyal to his father. No matter how it frustrated Findekáno sometimes, his love and devotion was admirable, and Findekáno knew he would do the same had it been Ñolofinwë who was exiled. Of course, _his_ father would never—well. Probably not.

If Russandol were here—and he had to be, surely he was not still in Formenos with—with the body of their grandfather—ai, Eru, Finwë was _dead_ , he was _gone_ —

Findekáno’s thoughts flew apart as he pushed his way through the crowd, his strength overcoming the disadvantage of his shorter form. As he drew nearer and nearer to the square, the burning rage grew stronger in his fëa, the smoke thickened in the already muggy air, and he felt the chanting rhythm of Fëanáro’s speech more than he heard the words themselves.

At last he saw his uncle standing upon a hastily erected stage in the center of the square, alight with a grief and madness beyond any Findekáno had before seen in him. In that moment he understood, somehow, deep in his heart, all that Fëanáro had lost, every way he had been wronged, and he knew—

Findekáno shook his head. He was not here for Fëanáro.

At his side stood Curufinwë, his father’s shadow, and Tyelkormo, pacing like his hound, and Makalaurë, abuzz with the musical energy and chiming in with dark promises whenever Fëanáro took a breath. Carnistir was at the foot of the stage, scribbling upon a scroll with a mad look in his eye. But among those heads, all black and one silver, there was no red to be found.

Where was Russandol? Where was Fëanáro’s eldest son?

Findekáno’s heart leapt as he caught a glimpse of a familiar copper gleam in the firelight—but it was not Russo, not his copper-top, but one of the Ambarussa top-russet, scurrying through the crowd with tears streaking down his cheeks. Was he looking for his twin? Where was the other? Perhaps with their mother, who was likewise nowhere to be seen?

The crowd roared as Fëanáro made some pronouncement, and Findekáno’s heart sank as he saw his own father elbow his way up to the stage and clamber onto the platform. Heated words were exchanged, and the hypnotic melody of fury and sorrow almost caught him up in it again, but...but Russo. Where was Russandol?

Someone touched his shoulder. Findekáno flinched, swinging around with a balled fist, uncertain of his safety amid the chaos—but his would-be blow was caught by a long arm, his wrist gripped firmly by large hands.

He dropped his candle, and the light snuffed out. His hands were released as gently as they had been securely caught, and before he could comprehend what was happening the candle was pressed back into his grip.

But Findekáno didn’t care about the candle any longer.

He sagged in relief, falling into Russandol’s arms with a sob, not caring who saw. They were supposed to be estranged, but that scarcely mattered now, not with the Trees dead and Finwë dead and Fëanáro threatening to make sure they were _all_ dead in some foolish attempt to render Melkor dead too.

“Russo,” he cried. “Russo, Russo, I...”

“Shh, shh,” Russandol murmured, holding him so close that Findekáno could feel the rapid beating of his heart. “Hush, love, I’m here. I’ve got you, I...I won’t leave you, I promise, Finno. I _promise_.”

Findekáno kissed him. Russandol froze for a moment, but then kissed him back fervently, even amid the crowd as they were, recognizable by Russo’s height and burning hair and Findekáno’s own gold-ribboned braids. Not even when they had been publicly betrothed had they acted this wantonly in public, but nothing in all of Arda mattered now, not in this darkness, not so long as he had his Russo with him.

In one swift movement, Russandol swept him off his feet and strode through the crowd. Findekáno clung to him, sure of nothing at all but his strong arms, and gave himself up entirely to Russandol’s care. Russo would know what to do. Russo would keep him safe.

They were in a dark room when Russandol set him down gently upon what felt like a bed. “We’re...we’re at my mother’s townhouse,” he whispered. “We won’t be disturbed here, she’s—she’s with Telvo, I think, and she won’t come back for...awhile.”

He moved away, and when Findekáno cried out softly, Russandol kissed him again and murmured, “It’s alright, I’m still here. I’m just going to light your candle again.”

A flame was lit and suddenly Findekáno could see again. A wave of comfort washed over him, so glad was he to behold that beloved face.

Russandol lay down beside him, holding him close to his chest, and Findekáno wept freely into his arms. It took a moment for him to realize Russo was weeping too.

“Finno,” he said, his voice cracking. “I—I am so glad you are here.”

“Always,” Findekáno promised, and he meant it, with all his hröa and fëa.

“I thought...” Russandol trembled. “I knew...I knew my grandmother had died. But I thought I would not see such death again. But—but Haru—”

Again Findekáno felt the aching loss pierce his heart: Finwë was his grandfather also. He knew not what to say, for Russo had been _there_ , where it happened, where Finwë perished. Even the withered stumps of the Two Trees could not compare to that.

“He’s gone,” Russandol whispered. “I can’t...it was horrible. It was...Kano and I...we saw...we found...” He shivered. “And I thought—if that can happen here, in Aman, then nowhere is safe. It’s—I’ve seen Míriel’s hröa, Finno. Atar took us to her bier, once, to pay our respects. She at least looked...peaceful. She went...willingly. There’s a dignity in that, one I can understand. But Finwë...he...”

“It’s,” not _alright_ , no, but Findekáno could not bear to see him so upset, “you don’t have to tell me, if you’d rather not think of it.”

“I just thought,” Russandol whispered, “that if it had been— _no_ , no I won’t...” He trembled again. “It’s not _right_ ,” he growled. “I mean—obviously, it’s horrible that Haru is gone, but it’s not _right_ that Melkor did this, and took Atar’s Silmarils, and the Valar will—will just let him _get away_ with it—”

Findekáno had never been partial to the Fëanárian distrust and resentment of the Valar, never before. He was named for a Vala, and was raised revering them as his priestess mother had taught, and even Russandol’s lighter kind of blasphemy made him a little uncomfortable.

But now, with their promised light gone and his grandfather dead and the illusion of safety shattered...he was angry, too. Fëanáro’s speeches did not leave his heart unstirred, and Nelyafinwë’s words only fanned the flame within him.

“We won’t let them,” Findekáno hissed. “We’ll—we’ll do something. I know your father won’t accept this. And I don’t believe mine will, either. And even...even if he does...” Findekáno gripped Russandol’s hands. “ _I_ won’t. To avenge Haru...for that, I’ll go with you, Russo. To the ends of Arda, if must.”

“I will be the death of you,” Russandol blurted out. “Finno, I know you’re brave, I know you’re valiant, and I believe you can do anything but—you didn’t _see_.” There was a horror in his eyes, distant and empty as the starless Void, and even in the warm circle of his arms Findekáno felt cold at the sight. “If I...if we take this path...I don’t know what I might do. Atar will—he’s already speaking of an Oath, to bind us to our cause, and—I’ll take it, Finno, I know I will. I _must_. For Atar and Haru and the jewels, I _must_. It is a frightful path we walk.”

“I will never be afraid of _you_ ,” Findekáno growled, more certain of that than he was of anything.

“I just—” Russandol was weeping again. “I saw what Haru was reduced to...he’d been beaten into the dust, Finno. His robes were soaked with—with his blood, so much blood, and I thought—if that happened to _you_ —I’d go mad, Finno, I would, if I couldn’t save you.”

Findekáno wiped tears from his beloved’s face. “That won’t happen,” he insisted. “I won’t leave you. I love you, Russandol, and it would take more than a single Vala to take me from you.”

Russandol ran his fingers through Findekáno’s braids. “I...when the darkness came...I thought the world was ending. And I thought—I thought it would come before...before I had the chance to marry you...”

Findekáno couldn’t help the sob that wrenched its way out of his chest. “Oh, _Russo_ ,” he gasped, “I’m here, I’m _here_ , you’re here with me, _always_. I promise I won’t— _we_ won’t let anything come between us, not anymore.”

Something dark and hungry consumed Russandol’s eyes. He kissed Findekáno passionately, and all the longing and desire Finno had been keeping inside himself rushed out, filling him with a need for _more, more, more_. They had been denied—but no longer.

“Marry me now,” Russandol said, his voice a rumble. “Finno, I love you, I need you—I always have, I always will—”

“Yes,” Findekáno moaned, feeling Russo’s hands move all over him, everywhere he most wanted them. “Please...yes...”

“I need you with me always,” Russandol whispered as Findekáno fumbled with the ties of his robe. “If—if we are ever parted—I need your mind in mine, I need to know you’re there, I need—”

Oh, _stars_ , Findekáno needed that too—but right now, his whole body felt like it was aflame with desire, and what he really wanted in him was _Russandol_ , all of him, every last inch.

“Take me,” he begged, stripping them both bare. “Please. I don’t care about a ceremony—we can have one later, if we’re lucky—if we wait for our fathers it’ll never happen, if we wait for the light to return it won’t. I need you, I need you to be mine _now_ , or I won’t make it through this darkness.”

“You drive me wild,” Russandol hissed, and kissed him even fiercer than he had before, until Findekáno could barely breathe. And then he was kneeling over him, and they were both trembling and sweating already, and Findekáno’s heart pounded with anticipation, because he’d seen all of Russandol before, and they’d dreamed of this moment for years, but now it was going to be _real_ , it was going to _happen_ —

“C-can I,” Russandol whispered, and Findekáno felt him where he’d never felt him before, so close, almost there, almost a part of him. “Finno, please, can I—”

Findekáno simply could not wait any longer. He grabbed Russandol’s hips and guided him forward, pulling him so impossibly close until Russo was pressing into him, the sensation _so much, so right._ They both cried out in shock and delight, and at the edge of his consciousness Findekáno felt something warm and bright and _Russo_ reaching out to him, and he reached back.

“Findekáno,” Russandol choked out. Finno pulled him into a kiss, and he began to move.

 _Russandol, my love, my Russo, my husband,_ he thought, less with words and more with feelings, and he felt Russo’s mind inside his own, their fëar mingling, their hearts as one, just as their bodies were now one.

“Finno, Finno, you feel—” Russandol wept, this time in ecstasy, and Findekáno felt him, felt _all_ of him, and everything he was feeling, too. _Finno, Findekáno, ai, beloved!_ He felt good, he felt joyous; everything felt like it was falling into place, and why had they waited so long for this blessed unity to be theirs? Why had they denied themselves?

“Russo,” Findekáno moaned when his husband struck something deep inside him, and Russandol’s clever fingers slipped down to help him along, and before he knew it he was losing control and the world went brighter around him than it had been even with the Trees.

 _The words, the words,_ someone thought; their minds were one, it didn’t matter who. If they wanted to stay this way—and _ai_ , they _did_ , they _needed_ this, always—there were words to say, binding them.

“Eru Ilúvatar,” Russandol choked out, not ceasing in his movements, “I bind myself to—to this nér, Findekáno Astaldo, son of Nolofinwë and Anairë, and name him my husband in your sight.”

“O Father,” Findekáno prayed, and _this_ , this was who he worshipped, not the Valar, but the One; “O Eru, I bind myself to this nér, Nelyafinwë Maitimo, son of Fëanáro and Nerdanel, and—and my love for now and for always, my Russandol, my husband.”

Neither of them named Manwë or Varda in witness. It would not be right, given the circumstances; and Eru was the only one who could bind them.

Their vows spoken, Russandol stilled inside him, and for one transcendent moment the world was calm and beautiful and everything was right. Findekáno gazed into Russo’s eyes and _knew_ that they were bonded, knew that Eru smiled upon them, and knew how deeply he was loved, by his husband and the Allfather both.

And then moment spilled into the next, and pleasure crested within him again, and Russo let loose a cry, spending deep inside of him. Findekáno cried out in tandem, the sensation so exactly what he wanted that he felt himself tip over the edge again, calling his husband’s name. They were bound, irrevocably, now and for always, and they could never be parted again, not truly.

Russandol collapsed, rolling out of the way at the last moment so as not to crush Findekáno. They were both panting, both trembling, both clutching each other with their hands and their minds. There was nothing in all of Arda but them, together, forever, at last.

Russandol looked at him, and Finno _saw_ him, all of him: every fear and hurt and anger, and there was so _much_ of it now in this darkness, but more than that he saw his beloved husband’s joy and determination and loyalty, and every flaw he had only made Findekáno love him dearer. And he knew Russo saw him, too, saw right to the core of him, and they were weeping with all the seeing and feeling and loving.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ swelled a chant between them that was neither and both of them at once, and Findekáno saw _himself_ as Russandol saw him, bright and beautiful and brave, and he had never loved himself like he did now. He could feel Russandol reacting the same way from the strength of his own love, and there was nothing in all of Eä that could take this moment away from them.

They were beyond words, for now. Findekáno was Russandol was Findekáno, and they didn’t need anything but each other, and they had that, forever. They knew the terrors of the world would come for them again; they knew they would have to return; but _now_ they were together, for _always_. They were married, they were one, they were with _the_ One, and they would be forevermore.

Findekáno blew out the candle and held his husband close, and together they forgot the Unlight of the Enemy and cherished this softer dark that existed just in this room, just for the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I didn't notice until posting this that it's exactly 3000 words? Nice! and completely unintentional, lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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